What About Livingston?
by Spikesgirl58
Summary: Napoleon runs into an old lover in Sacramento. It's inconvenient that she remembers him, but he doesn't remember her. And just a little dangerous.


Napoleon stood with his hands on the railing and looked out at the Sacramento River. This late in the spring it had finally started to recede, but it was still running fast and dirty. For a while, it had been an exciting time. There had been daily warnings of floods and road closures for the valley. Up in the foothills, it was more a threat of mudslides and avalanches.

Somehow their little town of Jackson had managed to come out of it unscathed. Others hadn't been so lucky. Scarred by forest fires the previous year, there was nothing to hold the land in place. Suddenly, Taste shifted from being a restaurant to a refuge. It had looked strange to see cots set up instead of tables in the dining room while Illya and Matt concentrated upon feeding the influx of displaced people.

Now the sun caressed his face, trailing the warmth, seemingly apologizing for its earlier actions. It had been a wonderful day. Rarely did he and Illya have a Sunday off, but Illya had given his staff a few days to recover after they'd spent a week cleaning and preparing to re-open Taste to the public.

He'd surprised Napoleon with not only theatre tickets, but a hotel room. And not just any hotel room. They had a suite on the Delta King, a turn of the century riverboat. It used to make the run from Sacramento to San Francisco. The room overlooked the paddle wheel and Napoleon could only imagine what it must have been like to sail on her.

She was permanently docked now in Old Sacramento, but it was still nice to stand on her deck and look out. It gave Napoleon a much needed sense of the sea. This summer he swore he'd get Illya to the coast and the Pacific Ocean, maybe they'd go back to Fort Bragg. He had a faint recollection of having been there in his other life as an agent.

Napoleon smiled as a gentle breeze tossed his hair. He was wearing it longer these days and had given up the Brylcreem entirely. Illya joked that if it got any longer, Napoleon would be able to wear it in a ponytail.

At the thought of his partner, Napoleon looked back towards the Pilot House, the hotel's restaurant. Illya was supposedly getting them drinks from the bar, but Napoleon would be willing to bet that Illya was in the kitchen, talking with the chef and staff. It was getting more comfortable as time went on. At first, Napoleon was a little jealous that everyone seemed to know Illya, seemed to want to garner his good will. Now he just took it as it was. For the first time in their lives, Illya was the one people noticed and Napoleon discovered that not always being in the spotlight wasn't such a bad thing.

"Darling?"

The voice caught his attention like a half forgotten dream. He looked from the river to the speaker. She was his age, perhaps a little younger or even older, it was hard to tell. Her face had the sheen of a long fought battle with aging.

"I don't believe it! Napoleon!" She swept forward and embraced him. When he didn't return the favor, she took a step back. "Don't you remember me? I will be truly hurt if you don't."

He smiled warmly. "No, I have to confess that I don't. We have met before?"

"And shared intimate secrets." Her voice got husky and Napoleon wanted to wince. Obviously at one point in his life, he had happily tumbled into bed with her. "I'm Angelique." Still he smiled and shook his head slowly. "From New York?"

A scene flashed through his head. It was dark and the air was heavy with the scent of thick blossoms and perfume. There was someone in his arms, a woman, but then it was gone as quickly as it had been there.

"I'm sorry. That was a long time ago." He longed to return his attention to the water. He wondered what it would be like to take Illya while staring out at the American River and felt himself stir. It amazed him of how quickly his libido sprang to attention when Illya crossed his mind. His pants were such that it was apparently obvious.

"Ah, you do remember, then." Then was an edge of triumph in her voice and something else… control?

Napoleon felt his cheeks warming slightly and couldn't believe that he was blushing. "I apologize. I don't usually act like a school boy. Honestly, I was thinking of someone else."

She smiled and there was a hard edge to it. "So you say. How is UNCLE these days?"

"You know my uncle?" Napoleon tried to sound confused.

She came closer and Napoleon could smell alcohol on her breath. "Don't play games, Napoleon. Not with me. It's beneath you."

"Napoleon, I have a treat… What are you doing here?" Illya's voice had a sharp edge that he reserved for difficult suppliers and insensitive jerks. He strode up to them, carrying two drinks. He quickly set them down and flexed his hands, a sure sign that he was expecting trouble.

"Ah, I might have guessed. You never were very far from your little lap dog. Kuryakin, wasn't it?"

"Illya, I-" Napoleon started, then stopped at the shake of Illya's head.

"Napoleon, the sommelier would like to show you his wine cellar. It's reputed to be one of the best in Sacramento. He's waiting for you at the bar."

Napoleon grinned. "Excellent. It was nice meeting you… ah… Angelique." He picked up his drink and walked into the small bar area. He glanced back over his shoulder at the pair and he could see that Illya had his game face on. Surprisingly, the woman didn't seemed fazed by it.

"Mr. Solo?"

"Yes?" Again, a faintly familiar face. His memory was not what it used to be, at least not with somethings.

"Hello, I am Allyn Gregaux. We met a few months ago at Vinea."

The moment flooded back to him. "You ended up with a case of the old vine zin from Sobon. Excellent choice, too." Napoleon tipped his head.

Allyn laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "It was! I am now stocking it for both our main dining room and bar."

"I remember you said you worked in Sacramento, but I didn't know it was here." As the man led him away, he could see Illya engaged in a very serious discussion with the woman, who was glaring daggers at his partner. He let the man lead him away.

He re-emerged an hour later, rosy cheeked from more than a few samples of wine and considerably cheered. For a moment he panicked when he didn't see Illya, then he spotted him at a table. Illya had his feet propped up on a chair and leaning back, enjoying the afternoon sun.

"You look like a big jungle cat," Napoleon said once he got close enough for Illya to hear. Illya's expression was one of contentment. There was an empty wine glass on the table and a half empty bottle of wine, which probably contributed to that sense. It wasn't like Illya to drink alone, though. "Sorry I was so long, but one thing led to another."

"How many times have I kept you waiting in a similar situation?" The smile that rewards Napoleon was lazy. "To be frank, I wasn't expecting you for another thirty minutes. A waiter arrived with a platter of appetizers.

"Compliments of the house, Chef." He set the tray in the middle of the table and hurried away. Illya studied the platter for a moment and then gestured to the cocktail waitress.

"Yes, another bottle of the Sobon, sir?"

Illya sat up and smiled. "Please and would you be so kind as to send your chef out to me, please?"

"Of course."

Illya caught Napoleon's hand in mid reach.

"What's wrong?" Napoleon sat back, confused but instantly cautious

"Possibly nothing, but let's just say, old habits die hard when Angelique shows up."

A moment later, the chef appeared and looked confused. "Is something wrong, Illya?"

"Yes, Chef, forgive me for asking this, but did you send this to our table?"

"No, I was going to wait until your partner returned. We are just starting them now. In fact, these aren't even from our restaurant."

Illya grinned and nodded. "I thought as much. Would you dispose of these, making sure that no one samples any? I have a feeling they may be… off."

The chef picked up the tray and frowned. Napoleon knew chefs never joked about bad food. "Of course, but who?"

"Let's just say they are from a former acquaintance who doesn't like to lose." Illya smiled charmingly at the man. "And could you send the waiter back to me? Thank you."

The chef looked even more concerned. "We have no wait staff working at the moment, just the cocktail waitress."

Illya's smile grew larger and he nodded. "There was a blonde woman talking to me earlier. Has she left?"

"I saw her leaving rather hurriedly not long ago. She nearly broke our barman's leg in an attempt to get past him. Is there a problem?"

"Not yet, but I will let you know if there is."

Napoleon watched the chef, still shaking his head, leave. "Okay, what was that all about?"

"One from the vaults. That woman used to be a top THRUSH agent when you were a top UNCLE agent. The two of you used to have quite the romance going back in the day." Illya sipped his wine and returned to his worship of the sun. "You couldn't keep your hands off her. Said that her inherent danger made sex that much sweeter."

"I slept with her?"

"Oh, I don't imagine much sleeping went on when the two of you were together. She was always either trying to screw you or kill you or sometimes both at the same time."

"And you made sure she didn't kill me."

Illya smirked. "Obviously." The wine arrived and Illya divided the partially empty bottle between his glass and Napoleon's before sending it away.

"She didn't leave happy."

"No, she didn't, but she is gone. At least she better be, unless she's harboring a death wish. I told her to leave us alone or I would kill her. That you had been de-programmed, but I hadn't and would love to finish what we'd started so long ago. It was always her way to leave a parting shot behind, that's what clued me into the apps."

"A parting shot?" Napoleon sniffed the wine and then sipped. He closed his eyes and concentrated upon the wine, its taste, its bouquet, how it made his mouth feel as it slipped down his throat. "Excellent, but then and again, I turned him on to it."

"Poisonous spider, cut brakes lines, she played for keeps." Illya touched the rim of his glass to Napoleon's and took a drink. "Do I look that goofy when I'm tasting food?"

"Sometimes, but usually only during sex. How did you know those apps didn't come from this kitchen?"

"They weren't on the menu and when I was back in the kitchen, they were just starting prep. They couldn't have turned these out that fast. I suspect Angelique stopped by another restaurant and bribed one of their waiters to bring the tray in. If she holds true to form, she's on the road to San Francisco or wherever she was headed." He lifted a glass towards the setting sun. "And good riddance."

"And the apps?"

"Probably poisoned, although they may have just been tampered with enough to make you sick. I doubt it, though, as she didn't like to lose."

"That's why the warning about not sampling."

"Yes."

Napoleon took a drink from his glass, draining it. "There are times when I hate what UNCLE did to me with deprogramming. Then there are times when I'm secretly thrilled. All the things I did in its name… the people I killed, the lives I destroyed-"

"No, Napoleon." Illya sat up to rest his hand on that of his lover's. "You didn't do anything that wasn't demanded of you. Neither of us had the opportunity to exercise free will. We did what we were told and when. Don't trick yourself into thinking anything if it was of your own doing. Besides, the truth of the matter is that we were the good guys. We tried to keep people like Angelique from destroying everything we hold dear."

"But I pursued her."

Illya opened and closed his mouth. "Well, perhaps." He smiled and squeezed Napoleon's hand, looking into Napoleon's eyes. "But I don't hold that against you. It was who you were then." Napoleon studied Illya's face, seeing only love and calmness radiating there. "What matters is the man you are now." He leaned forward to kiss Napoleon's fingers, resting his mouth there for a moment. "And you are mine. That's all the matters today, tomorrow and forever."


End file.
